The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 130

Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sink or swim!

Send danger from the east unto the west, So honour cross it from the north to south, And let them grapple. O, the blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare!

North. Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot. By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fadom line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks, So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities; But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!

Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the form of what he should attend.

Good cousin, give me audience for a while.

Hot. I cry you mercy.

Wor. Those same n.o.ble Scots That are your prisoners- Hot. I'll keep them all.

By G.o.d, he shall not have a Scot of them!

No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not.

I'll keep them, by this hand!

Wor. You start away.

And lend no ear unto my purposes.

Those prisoners you shall keep.

Hot. Nay, I will! That is flat!

He said he would not ransom Mortimer, Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer, But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear I'll holloa 'Mortimer.'

Nay; I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him To keep his anger still in motion.

Wor. Hear you, cousin, a word.

Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke; And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales- But that I think his father loves him not And would be glad he met with some mischance, I would have him poisoned with a pot of ale.

Wor. Farewell, kinsman. I will talk to you When you are better temper'd to attend.

North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool Art thou to break into this woman's mood, Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!

Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.

In Richard's time- what do you call the place- A plague upon it! it is in GIoucestershire- 'Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept- His uncle York- where I first bow'd my knee Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke- 'S blood!

When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh- North. At Berkeley Castle.

Hot. You say true.

Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!

Look, 'when his infant fortune came to age,'

And 'gentle Harry Percy,' and 'kind cousin'- O, the devil take such cozeners!- G.o.d forgive me!

Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.

Wor. Nay, if you have not, to it again.

We will stay your leisure.

Hot. I have done, i' faith.

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.

Deliver them up without their ransom straight, And make the Douglas' son your only mean For powers In Scotland; which, for divers reasons Which I shall send you written, be a.s.sur'd Will easily be granted. [To Northumberland] You, my lord, Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, Shall secretly into the bosom creep Of that same n.o.ble prelate well-belov'd, The Archbishop.

Hot. Of York, is it not?

Wor. True; who bears hard His brother's death at Bristow, the Lord Scroop.

I speak not this in estimation, As what I think might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and set down, And only stays but to behold the face Of that occasion that shall bring it on.

Hot. I smell it. Upon my life, it will do well.

North. Before the game is afoot thou still let'st slip.

Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a n.o.ble plot.

And then the power of Scotland and of York To join with Mortimer, ha?

Wor. And so they shall.

Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.

Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, To save our heads by raising of a head; For, bear ourselves as even as we can, The King will always think him in our debt, And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home.

And see already how he doth begin To make us strangers to his looks of love.

Hot. He does, he does! We'll be reveng'd on him.

Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this Than I by letters shall direct your course.

When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer, Where you and Douglas, and our pow'rs at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

North. Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust.

Hot. Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport! Exeunt.

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ACT II. Scene I.

Rochester. An inn yard.

Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.

1. Car. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd.

Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not pack'd.- What, ostler!

Ost. [within] Anon, anon.

1. Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in the point. Poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.

Enter another Carrier.

2. Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots. This house is turned upside down since Robin Ostler died.

1. Car. Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose. It was the death of him.

2. Car. I think this be the most villanous house in all London road for fleas. I am stung like a tench.

1. Car. Like a tench I By the ma.s.s, there is ne'er a king christen could be better bit than I have been since the first c.o.c.k.

2. Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we leak in your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach.

1. Car. What, ostler! come away and be hang'd! come away!

2. Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing Cross.

1. Car. G.o.d's body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved.

What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy head? Canst not hear? An 'twere not as good deed as drink to break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hang'd!

Hast no faith in thee?

Enter Gadshill.

Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock?

1. Car. I think it be two o'clock.

Gads. I prithee lend me this lantern to see my gelding in the stable.

1. Car. Nay, by G.o.d, soft! I know a trick worth two of that, i' faith.

Gads. I pray thee lend me thine.

2. Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth he? Marry, I'll see thee hang'd first!

Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London?

2. Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant thee.

Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen. They will along with company, for they have great charge.

Exeunt [Carriers].

Gads. What, ho! chamberlain!

Enter Chamberlain.

Cham. At hand, quoth pickpurse.

Gads. That's even as fair as- 'at hand, quoth the chamberlain'; for thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving direction doth from labouring: thou layest the plot how.

Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I told you yesternight. There's a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at supper- a kind of auditor; one that hath abundance of charge too, G.o.d knows what. They are up already and call for eggs and b.u.t.ter. They will away presently.